


Don't Question Me

by championofnone



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3515924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone





	Don't Question Me

"You let her sacrifice herself. How could you let Isolde do that!?"

She’d had enough. Redcliffe was nightmare after nightmare, from walking corpses to Jowan to a possessed child. Aren Surana hadn’t slept in over 48 hours, had gone into the Fade to kill a demon, and she was just about ready to set Alistair’s hair on fire. 

She whirled on him, four feet eleven inches of firey anger and exhaustion. “And what was I supposed to do, Alistair? Would you rather I waited and gone to the Circle and hoped against hope that more damage would not be done? That I should have left a child to suffer at the hands of a demon for longer than necessary?”

"I don’t know!" he huffed. "It shouldn’t have gone that way, I know that much!"

"Oh, hail the genius Alistair, he’ll save us all."

"Hey!"

"Alistair, shut up." She pinched the bridge of her nose, voice snapping. "If you disagree with my decisions so much, then by all means, lead." 

"What? Me? Lead? No no no, that’s not a good decision," he protested, hands raising as if to argue. 

"Then shut. Up. You want to disagree with me? Fine. But if you cannot come up with a better solution, do not chastise me as if I am some child." 

She turned, returning to her tent. Some scented oil greeted her to no surprise, as Zevran was in cleaning his blades off as usual. 

"I suspect that went about as well as you thought," he offered, dripping more of the cleaning oil onto the cloth. "Protesting and pouting?"

Aren sighed. “More or less. Maker’s breath, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.” 

"What, deal with Alistair? Or corral all your squabbling allies into an army?"

She paused. “Both?” 

Zevran laughed, wrapping up cleaning and setting his blade aside to dry. “My dear Warden, you have your work cut out for you.”

Staff settled against the side of the tent next to Zevran’s selection of daggers, she sat in front of him, shoulders rolling to release tension. “Tell me something I don’t know.” She shook the braids out of her hair, fingers combing through to untangle the knots. “At least the Dalish clan was nice to be around. I look forward to working with Lanaya.”

He hummed before reaching up and taking over rebraiding her hair. It had become a bit of a ritual for them to do with each other, a simple way of saying ‘let me help you’ without the words they didn’t have. “The glares they were giving Leliana and our almost-templar were something to see.”

"They don’t like humans. I don’t blame them. I didn’t for a long time, either." He tucked the one finished braid behind her ear, fingers lingering a few seconds too long before he retracted his hand. "I don’t like being here, in Redcliffe. Too many nobles and too many afraid of magic."

She shrugged off her feathered shoulder coat before following Zevran down onto the furs he’d laid out earlier that day, tucking her head under his chin and arm curled around his chest. He played with her hair almost absent-mindedly. 

"They will always fear what they are not, my Warden. Sometimes it will be all we can do to remind them we are not their demons."

"I know," she sighed. "You’re using philosophical reason, I’ve really been up far too long."

He chuckled, something she could feel as she laid on his chest. “Then sleep. Nothing will get to you through me.” She hummed quietly in agreement, curling into him just a little more before falling into an easy sleep.


End file.
